Deeper Scars
by sSISYPHUSs
Summary: Zoro is imprisoned by Perona. Using brain rather than brawn, he plans to escape, but things go to hell when Mihawk, now jealous of Zoro's devotion to Luffy, appears. He decides to give Zoro a new motive to pursue his title.  MixZo & PexZo Explicit Yaoi
1. Perona, The Candy Striper

**Spoiler Warning:** As of August 11th, 2010, the later chapters of this fic reference some scenarios and new characters that have appeared in One Piece manga chapter 592, but have not yet appeared in the anime. Please read with caution.

* * *

**Spoiler Warning UPDATE:** I've altered the story to include events up until chapter 597 of the manga. Anime-only readers beware! Until you know who Zoro is fighting, and what happens afterwards, please do not read this fic. Thank you.

* * *

**A/N: **This is a ten-chapter story that keeps fairly cool for the first half, and gets hot in the second. You get a itty-bitty taste of PexZo, and a heaping serving of MixZo—yes, they're _both_ harassing poor Zoro—two chapters per week; How 'bout we make it Tuesday and Friday? Oh, and it's going to get really steamy, so don't even bother reading if you don't like yaoi smut!

Okay, now it's confession time: This is my first fan fiction and I'm not a regular writer... just a regular pervert, so maybe that's going to show. Either way, I'm not making excuses, but would ask you to give your honest critiques if you spot something wrong in the spelling, grammar, plot, characterizations, etc, so that I can improve. You can be harsh without worrying about it effecting the story: The story's already written. Thanks ahead of time for your input. ~ _sSISYPHUSs_

_

* * *

_

**Deeper Scars**

**_1_**

**_Perona, the Candy Striper_**

Perona told Zoro that they weren't on Sabaody Archipelago. She didn't know their precise location, but no bubble-headed World Noble would deign set foot on this mucky blot of land, and clearly this was not a hub connecting adventurers to the New World. Had Zoro seen any mangroves, bubbles, amusement parks, or anything at all that would indicate Sabaody? In conclusion, this wasn't Sabaody, and he was an idiot for entertaining the idea.

/✤ ✤ ✤/

It was daytime, but the castle never warmed by day. With foot-thick stone walls, it maintained an eternal dampness. Broken windows ushered in rimy winds, but mercifully, the washroom had a fireplace.

Zoro coaxed a fire to life. Orange heat grew tall in the firebox until it lapped at the base of the large, cast iron kettle.

"What are you looking at?" he asked her, never turning his head.

"I'm not looking at _you_, ugly swordsman!"

"I know you are. You're burning a hole in my back."

"The only thing burning you is the fire." she said, "Maybe it's cooking your brains!"

Perona had apportioned a small bundle of kindling and five logs for Zoro's fire, but she decided to grant him two more for his comfort, though the fires they built in these over-sized rooms never helped the temperature much. He tossed the fresh logs on, then with a poker, collected the cauldron from its bail.

The steaming water was emptied into a small metal washtub. One cauldron was all it took to fill it.

"Still here?" Zoro asked.

"Of course. I'm gonna have to change your dressings for you anyways. I might as well make sure this is done right."

When Zoro looked, he saw she was reclining on the chaise longue just a few feet away. He shed his clothing and kneeled down into the water.

Earlier, she had instructed him to fell trees; haul firewood; and moments ago, to build and stoke a fire; but for some reason Perona still didn't think Zoro was capable of bathing himself. Now she had two ghosts conjured up to aid him in this apparently too-difficult task. The ghosts set about scrubbing his shoulders, back, and chest raw with a ratty scrap of cloth and a nub of woodsy-smelling tallow soap.

"You know... I can do it myself. I'm better now," he said.

"How are you better with gashes every which place?"

"If you know there's gashes, why are you rubbing so hard?"

"Ha! Raise your arms now, smelly Straw hat swordsman!" She commanded.

He glared at her over his shoulder, but found himself yielding. The ghosts fell on him, scouring lumberjack stink from the pits of his arms. Zoro struggled not to laugh. He was extremely ticklish there.

"Now turn this way," Perona instructed.

"I don't see why you're still doing this for me. Are you perverted or something?"

"What's the matter? I've seen your ugly body a bazillion times before, dumbo." She sat up in the chaise, looking mightily entertained, "Now turn this way! You don't want me to scrub down _there_ without seeing what I'm doing, do you?" She asked, "I might break it."

Zoro considered this and submitted. He knew from experience that this woman could not be reasoned with. Somehow, this one was worse than Nami.

"Don't move," Perona warned, "If one of these negative ghosts passes through you in _that_ place, you'll never be able to have any ugly, green-haired swordsman babies!"

Zoro kneeled obediently as the ghosts finished their work up front—though they were no less tender with his sensitive parts than they had been with any other part—and stayed motionless, stifling sneezes when he was commanded to stand in the bucket of now chilly water, as the ghosts cleaned his ass and legs.

The ordeal was over. She was ogling him shamelessly now, though he wasn't sure if she really knew what she was looking at or why, and he was too exhausted mentally to argue with her about it. After the morning he'd had, he couldn't risk taking another of her Negative Hollow attacks.

He went to the corner of the room where he could see some dusty, old towels. He stooped to pick one up, knowing that she was probably still looking. The towels at the base of the heap had the least dust; He grabbed one, and returned to the fireplace.

"Horo-horo-horo! You should have seen your face when I told you they'd hurt your precious man thing!" Perona cackled, "Men are so stupid!"

"Wha—? You lied about that?"

"Yeah, I mean, no... Well, it probably wouldn't hurt it. I'm not sure... but you were really funny!"

/✤ ✤ ✤/

Night fell upon the castle. Zoro lay in bed thinking and feeling rather uncomfortable although there were fewer bandages stifling him this time; He had insisted on it. Just a dozen or so linen strips winding about his abdomen where Kizaru's attack had landed and the wounds were freshest.

No, Zoro didn't feel 'better' as he had claimed before—there were pains from the archipelago and pains from before that—but as always, the linen dressings made him feel... imprisoned. So many things were imprisoning him now... preventing him from reuniting with his captain and the crew. There were layers upon layers of bindings: the pain; the bandages; this ghoul-woman who could incapacitate him on a whim; out in the forests, he heard the calls of blood-thirsty animals; and—though he was loathe to admit it—he hadn't the skills to locate Sabaody alone. He knew this.

If he could ever break free of his imprisonment, would he even be lucky enough to find the crew alive and well? Kuma and Rayleigh had been there on the archipelago, but had they saved everyone?

And he thought of Luffy, who had somehow made the correct call without anyone guiding him: to run away from a fight. Zoro knew the emotional toll of such a decision, especially for his proud, inexperienced captain. He wanted to be standing beside Luffy now, lending him strength, and he also selfishly wanted to receive the warmth of the crew's camaraderie once again.

"Why are you making that face?" Perona asked.

"I'm not making a face. Go to sleep."

"I'll go to sleep when I'm sleepy. I'll stay awake when I'm awake!"

"You're an idiot," he said.

"What?"

"You heard me. You're an idiot, and you're a pervert too. There must be a hundred beds in this place, and you've gotta be in this one?"

He scooted to the corner of the narrow bed, as if it would help things. It should have been predictable that she would scoot along with him.

"How am I a pervert?" She was using her most piercing voice now, "This isn't even my real body! I can't touch you! You can't touch me... Though you probably would put your nasty hands all over me if you could!"

"You're right, I would." Zoro said, "And then you would be dead."

A troop of her Negative Ghosts were summoned at once, piercing through him. He saw them exiting his chest, then it was dark after that; Deeper than drunken sleep, he felt felt no joy or pain until the next day arrived with its spokes of muddy sunlight wheeling back into the room.


	2. The Morning After

**A/N:** And now for the second chapter: a short chapter in which Zoro notices something funky going on... in his pants, and tries to formulate a plan to escape Perona's clutches!

Thank you to _Hitokiri_Dark_Empress _for the helpful review, and yes, I absolutely do think Perona would become a yaoi fan-girl. After seeing Mihawk prey on poor Zoro, how could she not?

On with the show!

* * *

**_2_**

**_The Morning After_**

That next day, bad luck came to him once, and good luck came in three.

The first bit of good luck arrived when Perona was absent when he awoke; She wasn't in the bed next to him, and wasn't in the room; She wasn't anywhere he could find. As he swung his feet to the floor, he felt a terrible soreness from the previous day's chores radiating from his lower back and groin. Everything felt wrong. He twisted, kneaded, and popped out the kinks as best he could.

_Maybe she's off planning something,_ he thought, _or maybe she couldn't handle being rejected._ A vindictive little chuckle escaped him. He pictured Perona, huddled in a corner crying over him, the salty tears sizzling in her eerie, frying pan eyes.

There was no trace of her presence out in the hallway either; Surely he would feel it if there were: enemies always radiated a fighting energy. No, she wasn't here, so he let out a grand sigh.

/✤ ✤ ✤/

Zoro whistled as his bare feet shuffled along; It was so freeing to whistle without care; besides, he liked the sound it made in these cavernous spaces. It was a triumphant little tune, composed on the spot. In his mind he named it, "The Rid of the Damed Bitch Song."

To his left, the wall ended and massive columns supported the expanse; There was one every twenty feet or so, with a sunken great room on the other side. Zoro decided to reclaim some of his manly independence by taking his morning piss right into the fireplace at the far end of this elegant room. It was a good day so far, the best he'd had in a long, long while.

Zoro unzipped and pulled himself out. He yawned a bit. Soot puffed lazily around the healthy spring of urine. That's when he noticed it:

"Ow, dang it! What the hell?" he said.

His penis was more tender than usual; It was red and slightly swollen.

Zoro thought about how hard the ghosts had lathered him there the day before, though it was difficult to imagine it would be so irritated all these hours later.

"Fucking Perona. I'll fucking kill you," he grumbled.

Then Zoro suddenly recalled the looks she was giving him when he bathed. He hadn't really thought about it much then, but she had been staring at him pretty intently...

The gears of his mind slowly started to turn: He wondered about the missing hours of the previous night after she had zonked him with her spirit-crushing ghosts. Now he was achey everywhere in the nether regions, and his junk was all irritated. The most suspicious thing was this feeling of calm in his body. After weeks of being monitored around the clock, there had only been a couple occasions when he'd been able to jerk-off. He should have been tense as hell... but was not.

He shook it, put himself back in and zipped, then bent to sniff his pants for the smell of sex, but they smelt clean... maybe even too clean considering that, to his knowledge, they hadn't been washed for four days.

_I thought you were just a little bratty kid... I didn't really think you were a pervert... Hmm... Maybe you were just curious..._

He stood up, slightly shocked, and still not sure what to think. For the moment, he wasn't very angry at her... but he still wanted to kill her.

/✤ ✤ ✤/

Zoro set about searching for Perona's true form and his katana, whichever came first.

One by one Zoro opened doors and peeked into rooms. The rank of doors were too numerous to count in a hallway that would probably never end. Wadou, Kietsu, and Shuusui were singing to him from somewhere on the floor, though there was no feeling of Perona. In Usopp's telling of his epic battle with her—though Zoro still didn't think it was epic enough to be told eight times—Usopp had discovered her real body, slumped over inside a padlocked bedchamber. Maybe this time it would be the same.

_How the hell am I supposed to find you? There's no way you would put your real body anywhere near m—_

Then those slow gears in his mind were turning again: Perona _had_ come near him with her true form! How else had she done whatever-the-hell sick-ass things she'd done to him? He supposed it was possible that she had conjured ghosts to grope him for her, but why would any self-respecting pervert do that with their victim out cold? Undoubtedly, her own ghoulish body had haunted his junk.

What a good day! He no longer had to worry about finding her real form. Surely, he could make her hot for him again when she returned. _That won't be too difficult,_ he thought_, she couldn't resist my charms last night!_ A confident grin lit up his face. Now all he had to do was find his katana, and hide them under the bed, then...

Zoro suddenly realized the flaw in his plan: when she visited him in her real form, he would be unconscious. Perona would just confiscate his swords again, and then she'd probably have more unsolicited fun with his poor dick while she was at it.

"Damn it all to hell!" Zoro shouted, "Usopp, where the hell are you when I need you? I'm no good at this shit!"


	3. Secret

**A/N: **Thank you to everyone reviewing and reading. I will leave you with two chapters instead of one today, since they are both pretty short. Please be patient, and you will see Mihawk by chapter 5. ~ _sSISYPHUSs_

* * *

**_3_**

**_Secret_**

Day finally tired of visiting the castle; Outside it had already gathered up its squawking birds, gnats, and had packed up the insect-eating blooms; The spokes of light were wheeling back out again... and Perona still hadn't returned.

Zoro was beginning to think he might go back to his room, when up ahead the hallway widened. The rib vaulted ceiling jumped from two-stories high to three, and the walls gave way to a proper room; A shorter chamber within that room could be seen there. It had walls of metal riveted together, and two enormous shields bearing heraldic badges with birds of prey painted gold and black, and each had two crossed swords mounted over. They flanked double doors.

Zoro edged the doors open, and slipped inside. For a moment it was too dark to see. His foot kicked something metal; It scuttled a ways before clanking to a stop.

His eyes adjusted. It was some sort of torture chamber... or maybe a prison? Zoro couldn't tell. There were strange metal tables with long, leather straps for restraining; odd masks with stingy openings for the mouth, but nothing for the eyes; things that looked like gags or muzzles; manacles and leg chains; leather whips with forked ends; and sophisticated-looking gadgets and gizmos that seemed very clever indeed, though he had no idea of their use. Oddly enough, there was no blood anywhere, which seemed strange to him.

For a fraction of a second, Zoro entertained a dark thought about bringing Perona here for a bout of gruesome vengeance, but then stopped himself. Even after having been imprisoned, beaten, and starved by that idiot son back when he first met Luffy, he had never allowed himself to be driven by vengeance; He and Luffy had granted that fool a fair fight. With Perona, it was a bit worse since she had apparently raped him—although Zoro refused to think of it as rape—but even so, the girl had held him a long time; He had to respect that, and as always, he had to respect his own code.

"I'll grant her the honor of dying by way of my sword", he said, "she deserves that much."

Despite that declaration, he had yet to find his katana. They clearly weren't here, and their singing had grown faint. He was just about to leave when he saw something interesting on the floor near the back of the room. It was the metal object he had kicked upon entering: a small pair of blue-green handcuffs. They looked like the ones he'd seen the marines using on Devil Fruit users... cuffs made of Sea Stone.

He rushed over and scooped them up. They really did look to be made of _Kairouseki_. It was his second instance of good luck that day. Zoro tucked them half-way into the back of his pants, folded his arms, and nodded to himself. Yes indeed, this was turning out to be a fucking great day!


	4. Imprisonment

**_4_**

**_Imprisonment_**

Zoro was standing outside the metal room scratching his head. He could see that the eternal hallway ran in two opposite directions, one at either end of the room, but which way had he come from? Down one side, all the doors were closed, and down the other, they were all open a crack. He pondered the philosophical meaning of this.

It would be a terrible thing if he couldn't get back to the room before Perona did. Most likely, the handcuffs wouldn't do anything to her in her astral projection form: After all, that wasn't even a physical thing. No, he had to get the cuffs hidden somewhere where he could be sure her real body would visit: their bedroom was his best bet.

As he searched—and the late hour turned everything the colors of bruising—Zoro passed arched alcoves to his right with Hellenistic statues in questionable poses perched inside. Not long after, he saw a pair of mahogany chapel doors with inlayed crosses of rosewood.

_Whoever lives here has some pretty diverse tastes_, Zoro thought.

He was beginning to worry that he was lost when he felt it: a presence was coming towards him from the point where the hallway succumbed to perspective.

"Horo-horo-horo! Horo-horo-horo!"

Her ghoulish laugh made her sound so close! Zoro bolted away from the cackling sound, cursing himself as he went for feeling so damned scared of the girl, but there was no telling how fast she could travel. She had the power to pass through walls and fly, so he supposed she could go just about as fast as she damn-well felt like.

"Horo-horo-horo!" the obnoxious sound seemed nearer now.

Soon Zoro was running past the metal room he had found the handcuffs in... or at least one that looked very much like it. Then he was entering the hallway of the endless open doors.

_It's a good omen_, he thought,_ open doors represent possibility. I should've just come this way in the first place._

Zoro could feel Perona right behind him now, but when he looked over his shoulder, she wasn't there. He ran past a great room, much like the one he had pissed in that morning, apart from it being located on the opposite side. He had only a split-second to be confused about it before he passed a set of wide-open doors, and in the moment he was able to look inside, he saw his familiar, disheveled bed. He went back and darted into the room.

"Horo-horo-horo!" so close!

Zoro raced inside, completely out of breath, drenched in sweat, and feeling as though he might collapse. He skidded to his knees, bedside, shoving the cuffs beneath the pillow only a spilt-second before Perona passed through the wall. He had made it, and thus marked the third and final bit of good luck he would be fortunate enough to receive that day.

"Horo-horo-horo! What are you doing there, Spiky-head?"

"Nothing," Zoro heaved, unable to conceal his fatigue, clutching the edge of the bed for support.

Perona alighted on the bed before him, and stretched out onto her belly. She put her head on her hands, and began to sear him with her frying pan eyes. She analyzed the swordsman for a few moments; His shoulders seesawed from his heavy breathing, and he was looking at her suspiciously. He was shaking from frayed nerves.

"Great, you big dumbo! How'd you get all sick again?"

"...Uh, I guess... I caught... a cold when you m-made me take... t-that bath," he mumbled.

"Oh! So it's my fault?"

"...Uh, n-no."

"So, I guess I'm supposed to put up with you smelling like a stupid, hairy ape turd?"

"...Uh, no. That would be... r-really... really s-smelly."

"Well, this is just great," Perona said, "and just when we finally have somebody cute here to visit us."

"Someone c-cute?"

Zoro jolted upright to scan the room, but a feeling of bloodlessness overcame him. Purple spots started punctuating his field of view until finally, a great, fuzzy purple color was all he saw; Then he fainted.


	5. Bad Luck

**_5_**

**_Bad Luck_**

"You twisted bitch! I'm going to slice you in two!" Zoro shouted himself awake.

The room was quiet, with the lights of the evening squaring off through the window panes, and they counseled the room from despair to melancholy; It was an icy-gray light. Rain was coming.

His body was positioned comfortably on the bed, but standing near his feet, with hands upon the iron footboard, was the warlord, Mihawk. Zoro couldn't feel shocked by it: his rival's presence simply met a subconscious expectation.

"Perona," Zoro asked the the girl, who hovered by his right side, "is this the cu—... Is this the guest, you told me about?"

The voice spoke with the same rumbling that distant thunder has: a low and quiet sound, "Brave one, how far have you fallen that you address this silly girl before me?"

Zoro righted himself, pulled up his knees, and sat. He ran a hand through his hair, "Mihawk," he said, nodding once.

"While you stay, Roronoa, I have instructed the girl to hold her attacks on you. Here are the swords she confiscated. Two new ones, eh? And one of them is quite fine."

Mihawk tossed the katana to Zoro, who broke from his sluggishness to catch them. He got out of bed, and standing, parted the loops of his haramaki, filing the backswords neatly in.

"I didn't ask for your help, you know. I had things under control until you showed up," he said.

Mihawk raised a hand holding a pair of kairouseki cuffs. "Under control? Well, I admit the plan looks to have been quite cunning. You display a deviousness I would not have credited such an honest man. Perhaps your imprisonment has made you stronger in this way... but as you can see, the girl knew of your secret, and would have punished you for it."

"Wha—? Well, why are you here, anyways?"

"As it happens, I call this castle home, so it is you and the girl who are my guests, and not the other way 'round," Mihawk said, "And since I have chosen to call you as such, please allow me the honor of your company at my dinner table. I'm only just returning from a great war at Marineford, and have stories to tell. You'll be proud to hear that your captain fought bravely there. I—"

"Luffy!" Zoro's voice rose, "Luffy fought in a war!"

"He fought in the front lines, yes, but you need not worry. Though his was the loosing side, he managed to survive."

"And the others?"

"His crew did not join him there, though his allies were many."

"I have to leave!" Zoro started for the door, but Mihawk moved forward and lightly grabbed his arm.

"I tell you, you're captain is fine. Stay a while. Recuperate your health with food and drink, and grant me at least one battle before you go. The girl tells me you make good company."

"I should be at Luffy's side right now!" Zoro pushed past Mihawk, and made for the door.

"First Shanks, now you... wasting your talents on that boy," Mihawk said.

"What did you say?" Zoro stopped in his tracks. He felt his ire rising.

"More than ten years ago," Mihawk said, "I considered red-haired Shanks my rival: the only man alive who could interest me with his swordplay, but he gave all that up in exchange for your Luffy's life," Mihawk's voice darkened, and he flipped Zoro around, and shoved him against the door. The door slammed shut, closing them in, "And now you... the first swordsman in all that time to show even a _spark_ of what it takes to be the best... and you sharpen your sword only for his service! Your destiny stands before you! Test your strength against me!"

"I don't know what you're talking about, but if Shanks saved Luffy, then I'm grateful to him!" Zoro pushed Mihawk off, his anger was quickly morphing into fighting rage. "And why are you so eager to die, anyways?"

"Ha ha! Delightful!" Mihawk said, "Exactly the energy you projected that day in the East Blue. Will you take up your sword before you go then?"

"If it'll get your vampire-looking ass out of my way!"

Zoro brandished his swords, placing two in his hands and one between his teeth. Mihawk drew the dagger from the pendant around his neck.

"That little spork again?" Zoro asked.

"Have you forgotten what this... '_spork_' as you call it, did to you last time?"

"What are you doing? You're too sick to fight him, dumbo!" Perona screamed from the sidelines.

"Shut up!" Zoro barked.

He circled around the world's greatest swordsman, not able to stop the bloodlust from registering as pleasure on his face.

The first clash—as three full-length backswords sparked against the 'spork' —pushed Zoro, and threw him back fifteen feet. The heavy rug pealed up behind his skidding heal. He ran forward to meet the dagger again, then suddenly, he let the energy burst from his breath... to his bones... to the deepest muscles of his core. He swung his swords outwards, and Mihawk was somehow pushed back in return.

Zoro became a flurry of metal; All three katana completed arcs about him. Mihawk's little dagger communed with each strike, but so quickly it could not be seen. Zoro attacked outside the confines of his practiced moves, and like liquid, he intended to flow into the gaps in his rival's defense... however, as of yet, none could be found.

Sparks went flying. There was the metallic sound of clashing, then Mihawk was pressing in through the fanning blades to strike... but somehow the cursed blade, Kietsu found a way to block the dagger, with Shuusui following to add its strength.

With a clang, the men froze, and were locked tightly against each other. Zoro raised one eyebrow and smirked with self-satisfaction, though much of the color had long-since emptied from his face.

"Exciting," Mihawk said, "To think you've grown this much!"

As Zoro had anticipated, Mihawk maintained the pressure against him evenly. He quietly awaited the younger man's next move. This battle wasn't about wining—both men knew exactly who was stronger, and by what order—it was about entertaining a bored warlord, and was about giving a taste test of the separate ingredients—Zoro's strategies and motions—that would, with the years, incorporate together to make for a sophisticated, world-class fight.

Zoro held there. He panted from the exertion, trying to ignore his body's insistent pleadings to stop, but as he had calculated, there was still remaining energy to mete out despite his pain.

He retreated to a fighting stance: feet, shoulder-width apart, and slightly more pressure on the retreating heel; Then when his energy returned, he lunged forward, leaping acrobatically into the air, twisting once to bring the swords in his arms after. Time seemed to slow, and Zoro comprehended Mihawk, not as a man, but as one of many materials that might be cut if only their energy signature exposed the molecular fissure running through them. In the world, there was stone, steal, diamond, and hardest of them all: this exotic material named, Mihawk. For a still moment he heard that material's breath: not regular like an element, but complex, multi-molecular, and percussive... but still, a pattern was there.

With the two swords in his hands raised, he spiraled downward towards that rhythm, and he moved the swords into the anticipated metal stalemate, then he swung his head around—a tertiary movement—with the white sword in his teeth, and yanking his first two swords up again, his beloved Wadou whispering downward... but then, once he had been committed to that attack... the breath instantly changed, and Wadou swished through thin air, a mere fraction of an inch over Mihawk's head.

Missing his target, Zoro went tumbling hard, head over heel across the room, but was somehow able to roll inelegantly to his feet. The momentum kept him running backwards, until his back collided with the wall with a heavy thud. He grunted as all the air was knocked from his lungs. An oil painting, and a segment of stone trim work crashed down around him along with a hail of mortar dust and crumbling stone.

Before Zoro regained himself completely, the warlord was on him. Mihawk had spun him about to face the wall, and had placed the little blade against his throat.

"Damn it! I... was sure—" Zoro gasped.

"It was a decent effort," Mihawk said, backing off to allow the young man to sheath his blades, "and enough reason for me to continue oiling the Kokutou Yoru... Still, I wonder how much of your ambition for me will yet be drained by your captain."

When Zoro's swords were away, Mihawk moved forward again, the dagger retuning to the young man's throat, and pressing hard enough to draw blood.

"Mihawk, you win... as you knew... you would," Zoro panted, "I'm at your mercy... will you... let me leave?"

"Of course, brave one," Mihawk's low and quiet voice—the sound like distant thunder—rolled on, "but first, I wish to give you further impetus for your pursuit against my title."

"Hu?"

"You, girl!" Mihawk turned his head to face Perona, "Go have a seat in that chair by the hearth, and enjoy the show, and as for you, swordsman from the East Blue... Roronoa. Go seat yourself on the bed."

Zoro crossed the room slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. He sat on the edge of the bed, ready to listen to whatever Mihawk had to say. Mihawk followed him over, leaning the Kokutou Yoru against the wall near the foot of the bed.

"Strip," Mihawk commanded.

Zoro was confused. He looked at Mihawk for a moment, then turned to look at Perona, who's eyes were more saucer-like than ever, and who's mouth was agape. He turned slowly back, unsure of what he had heard.

"Um... I think I didn't... hear—"

"Strip," Mihawk repeated.

"My... clothes, you mean?" Zoro asked dumbly.

"Unless you wish me to strip you of your skin so that you won't live to see your precious captain again," Mihawk said.

Wha— What kind... of man _are_ you?"

No answer was forthcoming. Zoro narrowed his gaze, as if seeing Mihawk more clearly would help him to understand. Before him, the greatest swordsman in the world was standing motionless, awaiting his decision. Why did Mihawk seem taller now... and broader in the chest? He seemed to be sucking all the remaining light out of the room into some void around him. Zoro noticed too, that it had started to rain heavily outside. Drum rolls of water on window panes: A sound that felt like just one more layer to his imprisonment, and what kind of imprisonment, he wondered, would Mihawk be?

/✤ ✤ ✤/

It took time, then at last Zoro accepted his situation, and he began to shed his clothing. Almost in a daze, he kicked off his boots, and socks, and he shifted out of his pants. There was no underwear; He hadn't bothered with it, so that wasn't a worry. Then off came the most difficult items to remove: his three precious swords; He freed them from the loops of his haramaki, setting them carefully beside the bed, one by one. Lastly, he scooted out of the haramaki, and let it drop to the floor. Zoro politely covered himself with his hands.

"I can't understand why everyone wants me naked around here," Zoro couldn't bring himself to raise his eyes to Mihawk, and his voice sounded smaller than normal, but at least he was beginning to catch his breath. "You're both a couple of sick perverts."

"Perhaps, but this perversion, while being base, has other facets," Mihawk said, "It motivates me, and has taken me far: the perversion to dominate another."

Zoro furrowed his brow. He listened, but could not understand.

"When I left those scars on your body," Mihawk continued, "much of what motivated me to do so was my perversion, and the scars I plan to leave on you tonight, come from that source. Though I do not expect these new scars will be as easily healed."

Zoro raised his eyes to meet Mihawk's—it was almost physically painful to do so—and for the first time, instead of feeling electrified or simply impressed by the man's presence, he knew what it was like to feel a true reverence: half admiration, and half fear.


	6. A Man's Pride

**Mature Content Warning:** The following chapter contains violent themes, explicit yaoi (male on male sex,) and extremely cheesy, over-the-top dialogue. If you are uncomfortable with that, do not continue reading! Thank you.

* * *

**_6_**

**_A Man's Pride_**

"If you want to maintain your pride in this situation, uncover yourself and accept what is coming," Mihawk told him.

There was truth in that, so Zoro planted himself in the middle of the bed, sitting cross-legged and upright. He moved both hands to his sides. His expression blanked, he looked straight ahead, and he made his breath easy.

"This calm you maintain impresses me nearly as much as your swordsmanship," Mihawk said, turning to face Zoro, "How difficult this must be for a virginal young man."

"W-what? V-virginal? Ha!"

Mihawk was edging closer now. One of his knees rested on the corner of the bed near the footboard, making the springs creak.

"So, you deny it then? ...As a nomad... the pirate hunter with nothing but his name and blades to carry with him from town to town... and later, as a wanted pirate with brief shore leave, what sort of companions were you able to charm, I wonder. Perhaps you bought women?"

"So _t-this_ is the conversation of the world's greatest swordsman?_"_ Zoro scoffed then looked outside the window to hide his blushing.

Mihawk was uncomfortably close now. His breath was hot on Zoro's cheek. When he began speaking again, his voice grew more intimate. It forced inside Zoro's ear, parting the seas of rain-sound whenever he spoke:

"Have you ever experienced a man?"

"Whaa—? N-no! Why would I—"

"In your private moments," Mihawk interrupted, "with yourself in hand, have you ever imagined a man's touch?" He caressed Zoro's cheek gently. Zoro flinched.

"Of course not! I'm not a sick _f-freak!"_

Mihawk was amused. "Then even if you've had women, you're _still_ a virgin as far as I'm concerned. Yes, your words betray you as a virgin in both body and mind."

With a single finger on the young man's jaw, Mihawk pivoted Zoro's head back to face him. Zoro was suddenly noticing everything as Mihawk's intense presence flooded into him. His eyes fell to the delicate, white flax seed shirt... then inside it; There, the dagger-pendant which had, once upon a time, nearly killed him—and had spared him this very evening—was dangling in its sheath: a crucifix of gold. He looked at the the ghostly-pale body, and its rungs of hard muscle, undisguised by youthful skin fat, running down the breast, and below were two tracks of tightly balled-up muscles that constructed his abdomen. They ran lean and long until they disappeared into belted, leather pants. The entire torso was unmarked by battle scars, and though Zoro had noticed this before, now it had become truly intimidating. This was a powerful, experienced body, and one Zoro knew personally, could deliver pain in precise amounts—as much or as little as it wanted. Finally, he noticed the heat and musk pluming off the body. When he breathed it in, it seemed to invade some untended corner of his mind.

"A swordsman, more often than not, fights other men," Mihawk spoke into his ear, "...men with lithe, strong bodies. By matter of necessity, he anticipates their movements by simulating their potential attacks in the visual centers of the mind... He burns the brilliant movements of another male into the darkness there."

Mihawk then tilted his head to the side, smiling, and moved in closer. His lips brushed against Zoro's: smooth and slightly moist, and for some reason, Zoro found himself unable to pull away. The tip of Mihawk's hot tongue traveled faintly across the vermillion border, then his lips pressed together for a feather-light kiss on the corner of Zoro's mouth. He continued his sermon:

"The heightened sensations of battle... the _erection_... a man gets from the thrill of combat," Mihawk paused letting the heat of his breath gyre around the younger man, then kissed him again faintly, "all compel the swordsman to thrust his sword," Another kiss, "and penetrate male flesh."

Zoro gulped hard.

"I have done this to your body... when you received my penetration..."

Mihawk had been pulling the linen wrappings off of Zoro's belly slowly. Now his graceful hand hovered over the young man's chest, never quite touching. The thumb made a circle just over the heart where the first wound had been administered.

"...and when my longsword nearly split you in two,"

Still, without making contact—though Zoro had begun to shiver—Mihawk's slender fingers trailed the more sensitive scar that logged the finishing blow: from the young man's left shoulder, down his pectorals... down the abdominals... and down to where the fingers finally loitered at its termination on the right hip. Much to Zoro's dismay, his body had responded, and the fingers mocked him for it.

"You drugged me!" Zoro accused in a shaking voice, "You put s-something on that b-blade to make m-me... all weird."

"Eh? I assure you, I did not."

"Oh... my... god. You are both so _gross_!" Perona suddenly proclaimed from her spot in the corner, "Are all swordsmen so disgusting?"

"Silence your grating voice!" Mihawk shouted.

The interruption afforded Zoro a moment in which he could collect his wits. "Maybe," he said, looking briefly at Perona, "you should let her leave."

Mihawk turned back to face Zoro, looking almost out of control. Zoro had never seen him this way before. Momentarily, the warlord regained his composure.

"That's nonsense," He said, "Her life has been spent in the company of pirates. Especially for a woman, ignorance of sexual matters is a liability," Mihawk deliberately glanced down at Zoro's groin, "Besides she will serve a purpose here."

"_What?"_ Perona's screeched.

"Sick bastard!" Zoro was up on his knees, "This is between you and me. Leave her out of it!"

"Be still," Mihawk placed a firm hand on Zoro's breastbone, "What could I possibly want sexually from that whining child?"

"I still can't figure out what you want with me."

"No?" Mihawk mused, "Besides your total and complete emasculation, much entices me." With heavy pressure, his hand ran down Zoro's well-knitted stomach and entered the thicket of curls at his groin, then wrapping his hand around Zoro's embarrassment, he gave it one, firm pump.

"...Uhh," Zoro shuddered. His face turned bright red at the sound of his own voice. He had never felt so humiliated before.

"Closer to me," Mihawk instructed.

Zoro edged forward a ridiculously small amount. Mihawk didn't move or speak. He waited for the young man to accept what he had really commanded. Zoro inched forward, a bit more... and a little bit more, until his chest was pressing against Mihawk's. His heart was thumping so loudly now, he could hear it.

Mihawk took Zoro's hands and guided them around and down behind him, then Mihawk placed his own hands on Zoro's bare ass and greedily squeezed the firm, supple flesh, rubbing the young man against himself, then he released his grip. Zoro began breathing heavily.

"Buck," Mihawk said.

Zoro growled in frustration. This was so mortifying. If he kept hesitating at all Mihawk's commands, he would only prolong the encounter, but if he was too quick to do as told, he might give the impression that he was enjoying it. Zoro didn't know what to do.

"Fine!" Zoro said at last, "Whatever gets you off, you sick fuck!" Zoro leaned his head down into the crook of his rival's neck, and started to hump steadily against the node on Mihawk's pants front. His angry hands drew Mihawk in.

"You make it so hard," Mihawk said after a short while, "Would you like to see?"

It took a moment for Zoro to break out of his rhythm. He backed off and looked down, staring wide-eyed as Mihawk unbelted, then pulled down the zipper. A heavy cock sprang forward. The leather pants fell from his hips.

"I suppose," Mihawk laughed, "that a man in this profession can't help but appraise a new sword."

Zoro was too dazed to realize he was being mocked until Mihawk snapped a few times, and motioned for him to mount again. Zoro turned scarlet-red with embarrassment.

Zoro was bucking again... harder now. He buried his head into that strong shoulder, and squeezed and humped, with furious speed. He wanted to make Mihawk cry out, thinking it would make up for the moan that had escaped him before.

Mihawk suddenly wedged a hand onto Zoro's chest and pealed the young swordsman off of himself. Zoro was flung backwards onto the bed, bucking a few times at nothing, unable to stop himself right away.

"Suck it," Mihawk said.

Zoro just lay there for a moment, splay-legged, trying to catch his breath and collect his thoughts. He realized that not so long ago, he would have chosen to die rather than suffer this humiliation... back when he had been on his own... maybe even awhile after that, but now the bond with Luffy and the crew willed him to go on. He got on his hands and knees.

He took the weighty rod into his hand; He could feel... even _see_ the thing pulsing slightly in anticipation. The scent of hide lingering from the leather pants, the salty sweat, and the musk amalgamated and was overwhelming. Zoro felt as though he was loosing himself in that smell. Without thinking or resisting, he put the thing in his mouth.

"That's right, brave one. Suck it with your pretty lips."

With closed eyes, Zoro gingerly swirled the tip; cradled it in a crescentic tongue, pulling upwards slowly; and then, with a hint of lip, he let the alien thing enter in... then out... then far into the back of his throat—as far as it would go. Then he began sucking rhythmically, gradually increasing pressure, and pulling with his hand. Faintly, a distant voice in his mind began screaming at him, asking him why he was doing more than what had been demanded, but because he knew that a good blow job was supposed to take skill, he couldn't allow himself to totally fail at it before his rival.

Zoro was surprised when Mihawk stopped him. He looked up, wiping his mouth. When he saw Mihawk's expression, he looked back down at his own hand. There was blood there, and there was a trace of blood on Mihawk's cock too. Mihawk jerked Zoro's head back, pried his mouth open, and depressed Zoro's tongue with his thumb.

"You bit your tongue through with the eyeteeth. Is this what it took to silence yourself before?" Mihawk released him.

"Shut _up!"_ Zoro shouted, but before he could say more, his head was quickly shoved down, and set back to work.

He was sucking and sucking, when from the sidelines Perona's voice rang out, "Ew! Why doesn't he bite it off? I would bite it clean off... Nasty, pervy old Bird-face!"

Mihawk turned serenely toward her. "He can't bite. He's a talented fighter who understands when he's outclassed," Mihawk grunted a little. "Easy, tiger." He threaded his fingers through the soft, green hair as Zoro's head worked. Then turned back to Perona, "The real force behind his blade... nngh... other than his hard physique, is the ability to see where he has opportunity... and where he has none. R-restraining devices... the manacles... are not needed here."

Mihawk was rolling his hips into Zoro's mouth, but the young swordsman refused to let himself gag. Zoro then found his hands being helped to a large pair of balls, and he was encouraged to massage there. Just when Zoro was beginning to think he had his technique down, Mihawk motioned for him to stop. Zoro came up for air.

"Enough... enthusiastic as you may be," Mihawk said in his low and quiet voice.

Zoro looked up, his lips parted. A tendril of spit, blood from his punctured tongue, and the fluid from Mihawk's arousal connected them still. He was flustered, and looking almost child-like in his confusion.

"I want your hands on the headboard, legs spread."

"...Good. Let's get this over with," Zoro managed to say.

He shuffled to the head of the bed, and clutched the iron balusters. He parted his legs. Suddenly, a loud sound echoed through the room: _Smack!_ Zoro felt the sharp sting of Mihawk's hand colliding with his ass.

"Ahh!" Zoro gasped. His entire body jolted from the shock of it.

The spanking was brutal. The large, rough hands struck him on his sensitive, young skin, over and over again. There would be no use posturing any longer: His body was shaking so hard he thought he might collapse. His breath was labored and punctuated by little whimpering noises. To make matters worse, Perona had risen from her chair, and was standing right beside the bed, gawking at him with something like awe. Zoro felt nothing like the man he had been before: He wasn't in control of his body, he wasn't in control of his mind, and he felt he had lost control of his destiny too.

After some minutes of this vicious beating, Zoro had become so completely discomposed that he began to cry; Bitter tears of humiliation streamed down his cheeks.

"W-why are you doing this, you s-sick bastard?" Zoro asked, "_Why?"_

"What a firm," _Smack!_ "...red," _Smack!_ "...ass!" Mihawk huffed. Breaking his young rival's spirit seemed to excite him greatly.

Suddenly the beating was over, and Zoro felt a hand rubbing and pinching his sore flesh. It dipped in-between the cheeks, over his asshole, and began fondling his testicles. Then Mihawk draped his heavy body over the trembling young swordsman's back, and wrenched Zoro's head to the side to face him.

"To see such a strong man cry is... Do not be ashamed... I consider it a gift," Mihawk held Zoro's jaw tightly in his large hand, he drew him in to a kiss.

With Mihawk's hand on his balls—and his hips rocking helplessly forward into the other hand, which had slid seductively down his chest and was now yanking him up front—Zoro accepted that he had been completely and totally emasculated. Mihawk was a man of his word.

Zoro closed his eyes and parted his lips for Mihawk's tongue, and the kisses grew deeper and more erotic. Mihawk then turned him around into an embrace, never breaking that contact, and Zoro grabbed the back of Mihawk's head. He threaded his fingers through the coarse, black hair, and tried to pull Mihawk closer—as if that were possible—into his starving mouth... and then all of him was starving: his lips and hands and loins... every part of him tried desperately to feed.

"Whooooaaaa!" Perona said from the sidelines, "that is _hot!"_

Zoro snapped out of his trance, breaking the kiss to look at her. She was so close. How could he have forgotten? Then he looked back at Mihawk and realized that his rival had shed all his clothing at some point while his back had been turned. All that remained was the pendant-dagger hanging around his thick neck. Zoro couldn't understand what he had just been doing or why.

Mihawk pushed Zoro away. "Prepare yourself for me," he said.

"I... I don't get it," Zoro said meekly.

"Prepare yourself to be fucked," Mihawk said.

Zoro still didn't understand... or at least, he didn't want to start doing this embarrassing, 'preparing yourself' thing based off of his initial guess, just to find out later that he had misunderstood.

He looked dazedly at Mihawk, then to Perona for answers—though he didn't know why he was doing such a thing—wishing immediately afterwards that he hadn't. Perona took a second to snap out of her transfixed state.

"How would I know anything about your weird man-love things, pervy Spiky-head?" she shouted.

Zoro slowly wiped the tears off his face and sniffed once as he turned back to face Mihawk.

"Are you going to ask me what it means a second time?" Mihawk asked, "I welcome you to do it. It amuses me."

Zoro let out a huge sigh. "No."

He bent forward a little and put his hand behind himself. Mihawk stopped him.

"Turn. I wish to see the penetration."

He obeyed. Mihawk put one hand gently on Zoro's forearm, rubbing it softly in perverse anticipation—encouraging it to bring the hand and finger into place—and with his other hand, he helped to part the cheeks of his ass.

Zoro inserted his middle finger while Mihawk molested the firm, perfect, reddened flesh of the left ass cheek, enjoying every second of the show.

"More," Mihawk said, "Think of who you stretch it for."

The forefinger was next, inserted much more carefully than the first. Mihawk's hand, which had been on his ass, slid around to the front to tug Zoro's dick, distracting him from the burning discomfort.

"I'll join you," Mihawk said, and then, rubbing Zoro's guilty hand for a moment, he forced one of his own long fingers into the tight opening. Mihawk guided the other two fingers and began to move them in and out.

"Oww... fuck!" Zoro's hips shot forward. His back collided with Mihawk's chest.

The desire in his straining cock and balls suddenly seemed so much more urgent. He writhed against his own fingers... against his rival's finger. Then the fingers began rhythmically pounding, and he looked down in stupid awe as his cock spurted pre-cum with every thrust. Mihawk's hand began stroking him harder and faster. With the pain and the pleasure, it was far, far too much.

"Oh, I— I'm going to come," Zoro groaned.

Mihawk stopped stroking and moved to kiss his neck. "I forbid you to come," he turned to Perona. "Girl, I release you from the promise you made to me earlier." As he spoke, he moved to steady Zoro. "Give him one of your spirit-crushing attacks.

"No!" Zoro howled.

"...But it makes him pass out," Perona said, "and I... He looks like he's having fun now."

"Do it!" Mihawk commanded.

Perona began to raise her hands.

"Perona!" Zoro shouted, "I'll kill you if you do it... stupid... bitch!"

"He may not know what he's saying right now," Mihawk said to Perona.

"_May_ not?" Perona yelled, "No way I'm doing it! He almost got me before!"

"_May_ not, I say!" Mihawk growled, "but if you don't do as I command this very moment, I _will_ slay you myself. Count on it!"

Perona looked terrified. She conjured a negative ghost, and let it fly from her hand through Zoro's heaving breast. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he slumped backwards against Mihawk. Mihawk held him there.


	7. What is Pain?

**Mature Content Warning:** The following chapter contains violent themes, and explicit yaoi (male on male sex.) If you are uncomfortable with that, do not continue reading! Thank you.

* * *

**A/N: **Thank you, everyone for the nice reviews. I have two chapters for you this time because they are shorter. ~_sSISYPHUSs_

* * *

**_7_**

**_What is Pain?_**

With his head tilted back, Zoro saw corbels and crown moulding where the ceiling met the far wall. His ears opened: first to the sound of rain, then he noticed a steady creaking sound. He could feel his body undulating in slow circles, and the fingers—both his own and Mihawk's—were invading him.

Then he heard Mihawk's filthy, libidinous moaning... but soon realized with shock that _he_ was the one moaning. Mihawk was supporting him, and Zoro's nipples kept rubbing on the man's forearm. They felt painfully tender. Zoro's hard penis bobbed up and down with nothing tending it. His body was burning and slick with sweat.

"Plea—" Zoro somehow stopped himself.

The warlord's mouth toyed with his earrings. It nibbled delicately on his earlobe, and from deep within that mouth a horrible, mocking snicker jounced.

Zoro began to feel the pain of a fresh cut on his ribcage foremost amongst all the other aches and pains of his previous injuries; There was warm blood streaming from it down to his hip. Mihawk had used that laughable dagger to wake him. Somehow the fresh sting of it was beginning to meld pleasantly with the erotic pulses, and it dawned on him with horror that he had always loved pain in this way: a stimulus so intense that—as he faced more powerful opponents, and the battles grew more gruesome—he had been happy to pursue it rather than sex... but pain _and _sex... _this_ sex—

"Oh f-fuck..."

His asshole started to clamp down on the assaulting fingers, trying to suck them in, then he was getting close again. His cock was beginning to hurt for want of release, and if nothing changed soon, he was going to come with or without direct stimulation.

"Not yet," Mihawk told him, withdrawing the fingers.

"No!" Zoro said, "Just finish it, ba-bastard!"

Mihawk grabbed Zoro by the shoulder, spun him around, and shoved him onto his back. He slithered up over, kissing the loin... then the belly... then pausing to tease the fresh wound, and Zoro began making little halting-sobbing sounds. Mihawk knew that most men wilted from this kind of pain, but the young swordsman only grew harder, and soon Mihawk could no longer resist. He began grinding his solid, heavy body down against that sinful hardness.

Zoro's sobbing grew louder, and Mihawk hushed him with sweet kisses, laced with the taste of blood. It was too much for Zoro—that pleasurable violence—and he soon became so weak with sensory overload... so overstimulated that he could no longer return the kisses. Even so, Mihawk continued, nibbling at the lips until they were sore, and guiding the younger man's tongue with his own.

At last, Mihawk lifted his head, and looked down into Zoro's miserable eyes. When he spoke, his voice was quiet and low:

"I would have guessed that a man of your will would have stronger resistance than this," he said intimately, "Though no doubt you've endured some weeks of the girl's teasing... still, I can only conclude that you have natural tendencies towards men."

"No... No, that's sick." Zoro murmured, turning away again, "...Please."

"Please what?"

Zoro hadn't wanted to plead, and didn't know why he had let that _please_ escape his mouth. He was panting, flushed, and all his nerve endings were sending such intense signals to his brain that it became nothing but white noise. He could feel his body buzzing... The rain hitting that window he looked out of wasn't drumming any longer, but was buzzing too. When he looked back at his own dark body, and Mihawk's pale one moving steadily on top of it, and saw the raindrops' shadows dancing in the moon glow on their naked skins, then it seemed he would soon loose his mind. He began slipping into a world of static.

Mihawk ground them together even harder to remind him of priorities.

"Oh,_ fuck!_ Plea— Okay, please, asshole! Just... _please_ finish it," Zoro whimpered, "It hurts. You want me to beg you, I'll beg you! Do it however you want... only just _please_ finish!"

Mihawk laughed. It was clear the young man was already broken: Mission accomplished. There was no reason to hold him any longer. After this humiliation, Roronoa would redouble his efforts in pursuit of his sword; How else should he regain his pride? With a few calculated moves, or merely allowing him to remain awake for a minute more, the young man could be granted his release, but—though Mihawk knew that he was getting much too involved in this fight for his own good—he didn't want to end things yet... A lagniappe that Mihawk was rarely treated to (seeing as the world of plundering and fighting made men rough)—this boy was the picture of beauty, drunk off testosterone: he was long and golden-skinned; had sharp, hungry features; and had abundant length and gauge bellow... Yes, the battle must go on.

"Ha ha ha! Beg me to put my mouth on you."

"I... beg you," Zoro said.

"Say it."

"I'm begging you, damn it!" he screamed, "How do you want me to say it? I _beg! _I _want you to!"_

Zoro had grabbed Mihawk's hips, trying to move them off of his cock so he could touch it, but he was too weak. He was pinned.

"Do you think you deserve the talents of my mouth?" Mihawk asked.

"... No... I don't... Whatever! I don't deserve it... but please!"

He signaled Perona, and Zoro slipped into oblivion once again.


	8. Teasing and Sating

**Mature Content Warning:** The following chapter contains violent themes, and explicit yaoi (male on male sex.) If you are uncomfortable with that, do not continue reading! Thank you.

* * *

**_8_**

**_Teasing and Sating_**

A sea king lurking inches under the green waters is a mysterious thing: One inch of plankton-rich, salty water is enough to keep the species, size, and color unknown; Still, it is always worth harpooning at such aquatic quandaries and identifying them later because—as all seafaring men know—meat is meat, and on the open water you can't afford to be picky about such things. Appetites must be sated.

/✤/

When the bleary world started to come into focus, Zoro saw a person hovering over his own swollen cock, and at that moment he thought about the truth of appetites at sea. He didn't care if the figure was a man or woman... ugly or attractive, he felt an impending need, and wished only to harpoon an orifice. His hips were pinned. He whimpered impatiently.

The figure reached up and twisted Zoro's tender nipples between rough fingers: squeezing, torquing, and pinching, but the arms still held his hips. Then the fingers moved inside his body, into a shallow cut Zoro hadn't known was there, just below the base of his sternum. A little blood pumped from it, pooling in his navel before dripping down his side.

Before Zoro could scream, one of his testicles had been slurped into a hot, silky mouth; His attention detoured there; Then teasing kisses ascended the throbbing shaft, until wide, bowed lips—his rival's lips—crested the tip, and a lapping tongue washed the sex fluids from it.

It was Mihawk holding him there, and Zoro's desire skyrocketed when he realized it. He desperately tried to move himself into that alluring mouth, but it only suckered onto him, closed-lipped; Zoro soon began to realize he was being punished for trying to buck his hips. He did his best to still them, and when he'd mostly succeeded, he was rewarded with gentle sucking. Zoro moaned and spread his legs.

Mihawk's rough hands descended to knead the dense muscles of Zoro's thighs. They slipped under his ass, pinching it, and suddenly Zoro felt mean, bony teeth running him down.

"Gghnn... M-Mihawk...?"

"Yes, boy. It's me."

"Oh you... _fucking_ bastard... I'm going to kill you."

"That's precisely what I want you to try."

Mihawk waited patiently for the young swordsman to regain himself, and when the pupils of his eyes had contracted again—when they had filled with all the sharp agony and lust of the moment—Mihawk lifted his ass up, and pressed him in with full friction.

"Uhhhh!" Zoro let out an tortured moan.

A keen pleasure; a long stretch with barely a tickle; a sampling of mouthwatering stimulations; then a stab of pain: it was never vigorous enough or steady enough to let him release... only enough to make him go mad.

Zoro could feel Mihawk's smile on his cock where the lips broke contact, then licking back down the shaft—on the underside along the fat, tender vein—the long, muscular tongue looped as far as it would reach around near the base, and the soft lips clamped down. In this position, with the cock threaded through, they began to make short, violent tugs. Zoro howled.

Zoro's legs were thrashing about, but despite this, Mihawk's mouth engaged again, and two wet fingers attacked Zoro from bellow, penetrating to their top knuckles; They thumped quickly, and the mouth set to work. Zoro arched his back, and began to make incomprehensible sounds, like the yelps of a wounded animal. He pulled at Mihawk's hair and bucked upwards wildly, and Mihawk took all this violence in good humor. Then, just as Zoro was ready to give him something hot to drink, the world went black.


	9. Disgrace

**Mature Content Warning:** The following chapter contains violent themes, and explicit yaoi (male on male sex.) If you are uncomfortable with that, do not continue reading! Thank you.

* * *

**A/N:** The final two chapters are up!

* * *

**_9_**

**_Disgrace_**

Mihawk sat up, wiping his mouth, and looked down at Zoro resting peacefully before him—Roronoa Zoro, the young swordsman who had been steeping in his mind all these many months. Mihawk's dark lashes fluttered closed, and he pictured that bright day in the East Blue, when an unknown fighter had challenged him—one of a endless procession of foolish swordsmen who sought his title—but this one was different:

_The young man was charging at him in a silvery blur. It seemed like a circus act: three blades—two in his hands, one in his teeth—such an amusing, artful style. Sadly, the amusement seemed to end there. Ornamentation and unrestrained power, he knew these were the hallmarks of inexperienced fighters, and they spoiled this man's three katana, the same way they would any single blade._

_With his pendant-dagger in hand, a feeling of blasé was dragging him low again... and with it, pity. Just one calculated strike, and metal was parting the tissue and bone of the young man's breast just over the still-beating heart... but, perhaps there was something to be surprised about after all: This particular swordsman was refusing to take a retreating step—death over defeat! What a strong resolution!_

_"Tell me your name, young man."_

_"Roronoa Zoro."_

Stupid, fearless, honorable Roronoa Zoro. Mihawk glanced at the young man who was comatose and sprawled awkwardly on the bed, and he chuckled softly. How was it that this swordsman from the weakest sea, could keep surprising him when—upon his boat and in his boots—he had crossed practically every inch of the globe ten times over, and had fucked and fought every sort of man and woman? He hadn't anticipated that Roronoa would be _this_ sort of man in bed, even as naïve as he seemed to be—a man who had been weakened by a few dirty words, a closed-lipped kiss, and a phantom touch; broken by a few minutes of indignity; and one who had rolled over, becoming so wonderfully submissive—pleading and willing...

Mihawk carefully flipped Zoro onto his stomach, then rose to his feet. One glint of his golden, predatory eyes sent Perona skittering back to the hearth and into the arms of the chair she had previously been assigned. Then he walked around to the foot of the bed where the onyx-black, seven-foot blade: the Kokutou Yoru rested against the wall and where his traveling bag lay on the stone floor. From the pouch on the side of the bag, he retrieved a bottle of clove-scented choji oil—it was intended for sword cleaning, though this was not the first time he had misused it—and he poured a generous amount into his palm. He stood again and looked out through the window into the menacing storm, and he rubbed himself slowly, slipping back into thought:

_Roronoa Zoro standing with his back turned on the wreckage of Krieg's ship... his body was also wreaked. The three katana had fallen from his hands. His shoulders were hunched. Was he now afraid of the death he had earned himself—the death that awaited him on the other side of the finishing blow? It seemed for a moment that he was, but then defiantly, he turned around, spreading his arms wide. He was offering up his belly to the black blade, and with a smile he said:_

_"A wound to the back is a swordsman's shame!"_

Mihawk moaned. His pace quickened and his grip firmed as the memory of that day flooded him with all its feeling: a renewed hope for the future, that perhaps one day when this young swordsman reached his full potential, there might be a reason to enjoy fighting again; a longing to dominate the cocky young man at every point in his training, both on the battlefield and in bed; and the feeling of a burden being lifted—that stifling boredom that came from being at the top of his field and the nightmarish loneliness he had suffered ever since Shanks had sacrificed his best arm for that stupid boy.

Mihawk calmed himself as best he could, and returned to the bed. He straddled Roronoa, placing his swollen, nearly-bursting erection in the cleft of the tawny, firm ass. He analyzed the hard-cut torso resting below him. The muscles adorning it had been lovingly fed and augmented—at least in part—with _their_ future battles in mind, so it seemed to the warlord that he rightfully held some claim over them; They were his present to be opened and played with in any way, or at any time he wished. His hand mapped each contour tenderly... almost lovingly...

If the young man's muscles were in some way his, the same could not be said for what lay beneath. Wrapped in that sun-kissed torso, inside its cage of ribs, lay a stubborn heart that had once offered itself to his dagger because nothing in the world could stop that heart's forward momentum towards the land of fulfilled promises and outlandish dreams—towards _him_; Not even death could stop it. Now, something in that heart had changed... It seemed to be beating even stronger, yet it was moving in another direction, away from him, towards someone _else's_ outlandish dream... That stupid boy again! Mihawk growled in anger. It was time to wake Roronoa and finish this...

_"A wound to the back is a swordsman's shame!"_

A shameful cut—mercifully shallow and short—bled a line between the scapulas down through that deep gully where the spine dove between a plump canyon of muscle on Zoro's lower back, then channeled to either side, just above the meaty curves of his ass.

"...Mi-Mihawk..?"

"I'm here."

"Th— this thing... What you're doing... Ahh..."

"Yes, Roronoa. What is it?" Mihawk slid himself back and forth.

"You win... Haa... I'm telling you that you win, Mi... hawk, okay? So... Hmm... do it already."

"Do you feel it?" Mihawk asked. He ran his thumb over the laceration.

Zoro cringed. "Yes! ...You cut... my back..."

"Does it make you angry?"

"No... I don't care! ...Please, Mihawk, _please!"_

Sweat was dripping down Zoro's face; His brow was knitted, and his eyes were closed; He breathed deeply and quickly. Mihawk instinctually reached forward to grab Zoro's left hand—the hand the young man had favored in their fights. It—like its matched pair—was clenched so tightly that the knuckles had turned white, and the trim fingernails had pressed so hard against the palm, they had drawn blood. Mihawk tenderly caressed the hand until at last, Zoro opened it. Mihawk touched the tips of the fingers with his own, and turned the hand over, rubbing it warmly, smearing what had been drawn from the red, half-moon punctures. He laced his fingers between Zoro's. A flush rose in Zoro's cheeks and he let out a long, blissful sigh. They stayed that way for a moment in quiet peace.

"No... no," Mihawk suddenly said.

"W-what? Y-You made me... understand... I admit... I want it... I... want you now, so please!"

"Yes, and I—" Mihawk trailed off. "...I can't take you this way. How... unfortunate."

Mihawk let go. Zoro raised his head and looked back questioningly... pleadingly at the warlord, and reached out, hoping to hold the hand again. Mihawk swiftly shoved Zoro's head back down, and pinned his body. He took his oil-slicked penis in hand and started violently masturbating it.

"No! Mihawk!" Zoro cried.

The room filled with the sound of Mihawk's growls and the fast, wet slapping of his self-stimulation. He watched Roronoa's pained face through his own clawed fingers, and then his own face contorted in pain. He longed to kiss the younger man one last time, but knew he had already gone too far. He lowered his head against the broad back, howling in anguish, squeezing himself harder, and thrusting faster into the friction of his hand.

"Hate me...ahh! Hate me... Zoro! Return to me!" he cried.

He rocked and jerked himself savagely until he climaxed, then his entire body shuddered as it spurted hot seed onto the bronzed body below.

Thoroughly exhausted, Mihawk signaled Perona.

/✤ ✤ ✤/

"Stupid Straw Hat swordsman! Wake up!"

"Wha—?"

"Wake up! Don't make me cut you more! Ew!"

"Mihawk?"

"That pervy Bird-face mustache man left you, dumbo."

Zoro raised himself up. He sluggishly looked around the room, then at his shoulder where he saw a small trickle of blood. Perona's ghosts had apparently been jabbing him with a poker from the fireplace. The wound felt more bruised than anything else. He looked down at his still-present problem.

"Can you leave me alone for a minute?" He asked.

"Why should I? Bird-face said I could watch the show!"

"Show's over," Zoro said, "Leave me alone."

There was a tired sadness in his voice Perona had never heard before, even when he had been his sickest. She turned and flew out of the room. Zoro moved to the edge of the bed and quietly jerked himself off, just as he always did when he was alone: no fanfare or ceremony. Since the bed was an unholy mess anyways, he ejaculated into the sheets. It didn't feel very good, and though he wasn't entirely sure why, he wept afterwards.


	10. Seeing the Trees for the Forest

**Spoiler Warning:** I've altered the story to include events up until chapter 597 of the manga. Anime-only readers beware! Until you know who Zoro is fighting on Kuraigana island (where Kuma sent him) and what happens afterwards, please do not read this. Thank you.

* * *

**_10_**

**_Seeing the Trees for the Forest_**

Zoro marched through the forest carrying a rowboat over his head, and two oars inside his haramaki, sword-side; These he had found mysteriously waiting for him on the stone terrace just outside the castle doors. Perona led him along.

In the cold morning air, the evergreens' bright fragrance was like a gift, and steaming from the ground was that low smell: a mixture of damp leaves, mud, and peat moss that old forests have. Zoro knew feral eyes were on them, and he anticipated a good fight or two before the day was over; It was relieving to busy his mind with such things. Perona was the first to break the silence:

"...So... did he hurt you?"

Zoro took a while to answer. "...No," he said.

"Seemed like he did. All those cuts... You screamed and cried a whole lot too."

"Shut up, you little bitch!"

"Why'd you beg anyways? I thought you were supposed to be all tough."

Zoro tipped the boat up like some gigantic sombrero, and gave her a murderous glare, "You don't understand what it's like for a man," he said.

"You're still a man?"

Zoro freed a hand to move for his swords, then he stopped, remembering how useless it would be. She was just an astral projection; She wasn't anything he could fight with.

They traveled in silence for a while. The marshy sound of Zoro's steps and insect and animal noises filled the void. Finally, he spoke:

"I know what you did by the way. You're just as bad as him."

"Muu! What do you mean by that?"

"You think I wouldn't know?" he said, "You knocking me out and doing crap to me."

"Huh? What crap?"

"You know what _crap!"_ he shouted, "You made my junk all red with whatever shit you did to me after you knocked me out... You know, before Mihawk showed up. And I was going to let it go... but it's really bugging me now. At least tell me how far you took it? Did we have sex or what?"

Perona's cheeks turned hot pink. She stopped following Zoro, being too shocked to fly another inch. He turned to face her, awaiting her reply.

"I didn't do... _that_ stuff," she said.

"The hell you didn't! It was all red and sore. A guy can tell besides!"

"You and Bird-face are the sickos! Not me! You were talking in your sleep, making gross sounds and calling out for Straw Hat, and then you made the bed all wet and sticky. I had to spend half the night washing nasty stuff from everywhere, and then I had to give you another bath! I didn't know I could wake you up by cutting you, or else I _would_ have, and then you would've had to clean it all yourself! _Hmph!"_

Zoro's eyes grew large and he blushed furiously, "You say I... I called Luffy's name?"

"I said so, didn't I? You were saying, 'Oh, Luffy!' 'Ah! Luffy, more!' 'I _love_ you, captain.' You were _so_ loud too!"

"... Sorry... I— Thank you then for... cleaning... up..." Zoro mumbled.

"I guess I don't mind."

Zoro hiked on with Perona as his beacon. The storm had passed sometime during the night, but the leavings of it could still be seen. Wherever light completed the maze of dense canopy, exiting on the floor, bright green shoots of grass had sprouted. There were invasive little purple and black flowers huddled near the roots of things, and near them, thrushes slurped up pink worms from an undergrowth buffet on the banks of mud puddles.

"It'll be good to get back there... to the crew," Zoro said, "Luffy really needs me... I mean, they all pretty much do. Heh! They're a bunch of idiots."

"Yeah, I bet they can't survive without their _number-one_ idiot."

Zoro looked off towards a break in the trees. A meadow could be seen beyond, nestled beneath a range of dark mountains. As the clouds sailed over it, they intermittently showered with a crackling-hissing sound, and the subtle bending of grasses mirrored their shape.

"...So," Perona said, "when you get back are you gonna tell Straw Hat that you love, love, _love_ him or what?"

"Wha—?" Zoro nearly dropped the boat, and blushed fiercely. "Fuck no! I don't love Luffy!... Not like _that. _Luffy's like an innocent, little _kid!_ That was just... just something I guess I said when I was asleep is all._"_

"I don't know..." Perona said. She tapped her finger on her chin. "You talk about him all the time when you're awake too."

"Well yeah! ...Because he's my captain, and he's got a crazy dream that I'm gonna help him achieve... I mean, I care about the guy, but not like that... At least, I don't think..."

"Ah see! You _do_ love him!" Perona taunted.

"Why the hell am I even talking to you about this?"

"Maybe you're talking to me about it because if you don't, I might accidentally get us lost," Perona said with a wicked grin.

"Shit. You really _are_ just like the Sea Witch."

"Let me see... What do I want to talk to you about?" Perona said. "Oh! _Question!_ If you could have awesome man-butt sex with Mihawk or Straw Hat, which would you choose?"

"Pervert! Maybe you're more like the Love Cook... No, you're like Nami and the Love Cook _combined!"_ Zoro growled and hunched lower so that the boat blocked every part of Perona from his field of view, from her crowned head down to her clunky red boots. He hid from her question.

"Okay bye, stupid Straw Hat swordsman! I guess I'll be go—"

"No! _Wait!"_

"Why should I?"

"Look, I get that I owe you one for helping me out, but can't we talk about this shit later or something? Last night was kind of, I don't know, _weird. _I need to think some stuff through before I could answer something like that."

"Fine," Perona conceded, "but I definitely want to talk about the hot man-butt sex later!"

"Can you _stop_ saying that?" Zoro yelled.

/✤ ✤ ✤/

The pair continued their trek with Perona scouting and normalizing Zoro's course towards the sea. By mid-afternoon a tribe of blood-thirsty, armored apes had emerged from the forest, fighting unrelentingly. They quickly drained what little remained of Zoro's strength, and to his dismay, the rowboat was lost: cleaved in two by an ape wielding a halbert. Perona abandoned him there.

/✤ ✤ ✤/

At dusk, Zoro became aware of Mihawk's presence, and through the blood and dirt, saw him perched upon a wall, silently observing the ongoing fray. Perona had tried to help Zoro after all by bringing the warlord here, though this was the last thing Zoro would have ever wanted.

The discourse between the two men had a civil shade on the surface; was tinged with the bravado and flirtation of masculine rivalry; but now had a new, dark wanting as its undertone. In the end, much to Mihawk's dismay, Zoro was still single-mindedly eager to return to his captain, so had refused help. They parted ways.

These apes he battled with—or Humandrillus, as Mihawk had called them—had grown war-like and unfeeling, having been raised amongst violence... and Zoro was forced to identify with them more and more as the curtain of night's darkness draped around the ruined circus. He and they were spotlighted by the full moon... reduced to essentialist forms: motion, emotion, and intention. They were adaptive—emptily improving—driven solely by the hurt of their past... and he had once been exactly like them apart from the purity of his promise to Kuina long ago.

Now, the recent changes in his own heart were laid bare underneath the harsh spotlight, exposed by the way he moved his blade—the increase in skill and strength he had achieved in the past months for the sake of others rather than for himself alone, and he was distinguished from the beasts by one feeling in particular that had grown steadily ever since the first day he took to the sea and in every nautical mile after; He had never ignored or repressed it, but as it transformed from a feeling he knew: _respect_, into a feeling that required so much more of him that it was frightening, he allowed it to remain unnamed. Even under the self-scrutiny of the spotlight this night, and after embracing the reasons why he had enjoyed Mihawk's cruel touch the night before, he still couldn't accept what his heart wished to call it.

/✤ ✤ ✤/

In the light of day, Zoro rested at the terminal station along the route of his own dripping blood: the foyer steps inside the castle of Shikkeāru Kingdom, to which he had returned. He was imprisoned by layer upon layer of bindings: fresh pain; new bandages were being swathed; and—though he was still loathe to admit it—without the ghoul-woman, he would never be able to locate Sabaody alone. He knew this... but somewhere across the sea, he hoped Luffy and the crew were alive and well... and if they were alive and well, Zoro had the heart to find them again.

/✤/

"I won't accept that answer! It's _stupid!"_

"I don't care if you don't like my answer, and could you stop wrapping the bandages so tight? You're cutting off the circulation!"

"You're supposed to choose _Mihawk_ or _Straw Hat._ It's not fair to say _none_."

"You asked me which I would choose to... to..."

"To have hot _man-bu—_"

"_Do NOT_ say it like that!_ ...Damn _you, you _perverted ghoul!_ I remember the question, and my answer is that I wouldn't choose _either._ Now give me that newspaper!"

"Horo-horo-horo! I don't think so!"

"...Okay... Mistress Perona, can I please see the paper?"

"Alright, but only _after_ you answer my question properly."

"But I already told you. I can't answer it any other way!"

"Well, looks like I'm finished here, so I'm gonna go hang out with Mihawk. He's all mean and scary, but at least he likes to gossip, and he feeds me black tea and crumpets if I tell him stuff about _yoooou!_ Bye-bye!"

"Perona! Wait!"

"What?"

"You know that thing you told me I said before?"

"Hu? What are you babbling about, dumb-head?"

"About Luffy... when I was asleep."

"Oh, you mean how you _looooove_ him?"

"...I was thinking before that it might be slightly possible... _maybe."_

"No way! So you're saying you'd actually choose _him _over cute Bird-face? I think maybe you lost a bit too much blood this time."

"No, I'm not saying that... Even if I _did_ feel that way... and I really don't think that I do, I would never tell Luffy about it, so my answer to your question is still the same... The captain and I both have goals to accomplish, we're on the same crew, and besides, Luffy's too innocent to think about... t-that sort of thing. But I guess Mihawk made me realize that I'm um... that I'm—"

"A pervy _man-butt_ lover?"

"Nrrrr... Whatever... So, now I have to consider the possibility that what you told me I said could maybe be true or something like that. I really need to think about it more though."

"Hey, wasn't Bird-face trying to get you to _forget_ about Straw Hat?"

"Heh-heh. Yeah, I think so."

"Horo-horo-horo! Poor old Bird-face. He really messed up!"

"Hmm... Yeah, he really messed up... So... uh, Perona, is that good enough to satisfy your curiosity, 'cause I'd really like to see that paper now..."

"Noooo! You still have to tell me why you don't want to do more nasty man-things with Bird-face now! I was right _there!_ I know you liked it! ...and I know _he_ liked it!"

"Tch, I _knew_ Mihawk should've made you leave the room! You're mind is seriously _way_ more twisted than before... Anyways, I'm getting tired. Just show me the paper and I promise to answer your question later_."_

"_Two_ questions later!"

"Fine! Just show me!"

Perona finally relented and held the paper before Zoro's weary eyes. On the cover, just as she had claimed—and had bribed him with—was a picture of Luffy. He was wounded, bowing solemnly, and clutching his beloved hat in his hand. To Zoro, he looked older... matured... and though Luffy had shown that he could be serious before—most notably, the night he had dueled Usopp—this seriousness was of another sort entirely; It was clear that his captain had been to hell and back, and Zoro wished he could reach right into the picture and place a comforting hand on the poor boy's shoulder.

Zoro scanned the article from beginning to end—an account of all Luffy's peculiar activities at Marineford. He puzzled at the strange new tattoo on Luffy's right arm, and then re-read everything over and over again until Perona complained that her hands were getting tired from the weight of the paper. With promises to answer more perverted questions later, she agreed to hold it a while longer.

When Zoro finally understood what his captain was telling him, it felt like the world was crashing down. _Two years_... His captain was telling him that the crew wouldn't regroup for _two whole years!_ So many emotions and thoughts swarmed him that he was sure he would suffocate: There was great anger that the world could be so cruel as to offer companionship in one breath, and take it away in the next; there was immense satisfaction that his captain had made such a difficult, but ultimately correct decision; there was relief because, if his captain believed that the crew was alive to receive such a message, then surely they would be; and there was dread—overwhelming dread—because Zoro knew that he needed to become stronger during the following two years, and he knew how he would need to train... and how he would have to pay for it. The official currency of the ruined kingdom of Shikkeāru, was pride.

~_the end?_~

* * *

**A/N: **And done! I guess I should apologize for the hidden ZoxLu pairing to those who don't care for it (though it remains unconfirmed within the story.) I couldn't divulge it because it served as a little plot-twist for the end, showing how Mihawk's depraved plan to renew Zoro's interest in pursuing his sword, failed spectacularly. Please think of how an affection like that could motivate Mihawk to do all sorts of horrible things to Zoro in the future, then maybe you'll forgive me.

_Hitokiri Dark Empress _mentioned manga chapter 597. Yeah, it really got me thinking that this story could expand, so this week I rewrote most of the last two chapters so that they would segue well if I do choose to write another fic. Also, I was really sad when I couldn't use Mihawk's secret room in the story (I agree with you, _The Wandering Swordsman_ that testing the equipment would have been fun) after all, Zoro was wrong, it's not a torture chamber or a prison... and I have tons of sick ideas about what they might do there that really don't belong on this site. Heh-heh!

One last thing: Thank you to all who took time to review. Also, the critiques and error-catches were all valid in my opinion, and I'll be uploading my adjustments tonight with this update. The only thing I couldn't address was the tip that I should rewrite the opening sequence to the Mihawk-Zoro battle scene. Though I agree it could be improved, I just don't have the skills yet to do that. I plan to work on that weakness.

Thank you for reading. ~ _sSISYPHUSs_


End file.
